Work Text:
Call Me Crazy, But…
A "What You Want" Fanfiction
Lance Thunder was not having a good day.
"Yes. Well, Mr. Thunder, could you tell me what happened here?" the cop said. Lance shot him a glare, and the cop smiled encouragingly. "One more time."
Lance took a deep breath and counted backwards from ten. He was already in enough trouble, and he didn't need to add "strangling a police officer" to the list. Once his temper was relatively under control, he spoke as calmly and clearly as possible. "Like I told you last time," he began, knowing he sounded a bit crazy, "I was sitting in a traffic jam."
"Right…"
"It was around noon. Not long ago. I was right there, a block away from the movie theater, trying to drive to work." Lance continued.
"Okay…"
"And all of the sudden, this car in front of me—one of those red classic Volkswagons, with a surfing board strapped on top—it just backed right into me and dented my front bumper," Lance explained.
"Alright…"
"And then the car's whole body shook, and the wheels did something weird, and it just shot straight up into the air…"
"Okay, right there. That's where you list me last time." The cop said, and Lance gave an exasperated sigh as the cop flipped a page in his notes. "Now, when you say 'straight up' and 'into the air', do you mean…"
"I mean it flew! Straight up! Vertical! Star-bound! Fwooooooosh!" Lance waved his arms erratically. Normally he wouldn't be quite so undignified, but he was both nearing the end of his patience and questioning his own sanity. It was not a good combination. "Just took off E.T. style, and left me with five hundred dollars of damage to my car!"
"Uhuh."
"I'm serious!"
"That's what worries me."
Lance Thunder growled and pressed his hands to his face in frustration. He knew how stupid he sounded. How crazy he sounded. But he wasn't a stupid, or crazy, man. At least, not stupid enough to change his story just to appease a cop. They'd been talking here for over an hour, and if Lance suddenly started singing a different tune, the cop would probably fine him for obstruction of justice. Besides, someone had to pay for this fender-bender.
"I got the license plate and everything," Lance told the cop, who was now jotting notes down on his notepad. "Can't you do something? My insurance is going to go through the roof!"
The cop paused, tapping his chin with the tip of his pen. "Well, Mr. Thunder," he said at last, "…I'm not entirely sure how to file a hit and fly."
"Oh for—" Lance threw his hands up into the air. "I cannot be the only person who saw it!"
"Sir…" said the cop.
"The car was bright red! It took off during rush hour! The driver was screaming as his car flew towards the business sector!"
"Sir," said the cop, again.
"I mean, are people that blind? Aren't there security cameras anywhere? What if it's dangerous? It might've been a new, high-tech experiment, or—or an extraterrestrial aircraft, or—or a car possessed by ghosts, or—"
"Sir!"
Lance stopped, suddenly very aware of the rant he'd just finished. Exactly who would be driving something like that? Mad scientists? Aliens? Ghosts? Sheesh. Maybe he was crazy. Maybe he should just shut up now before he made things worse.
The cop sighed, a disapproving frown creasing his face. "Sir, I'm going to have to confiscate your driver's license."
"What?" Scratch that, things already got worse.
"I'll call a tow truck to pick up your car."
"What?" No! That was going to cost extra!
"And if you need a lift, I'll call a taxi for you."
"What?" Oh god, he was going to be late for work.
"I just don't think you should really be driving in your… condition." The cop said tactfully.
"Condition?" that was really the last straw. "I'm not drunk! Or high! Or crazy!"
"I didn't say you were. And I won't ask you to come down to the station for drug testing, either. Though it would certainly help your case." The cop muttered the last bit under his breath before going on. "It's just that people who suffer from hallucinations should not be on the road. I recommend seeing your doctor as soon as possible."
"But—But—" Lance sputtered, looking at his car parked on the road. He wanted to make some argument, some grab at his sanity…
The cop simply held out his hand. "License." He ordered.
Lance deflated. Great. He pulled his wallet from his pocket, shimmying the driver's license out of the tight slot it was wedged into. Begrudgingly, he placed the white plastic in the cop's extended hand.
The cop smiled. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Thunder." He said, curling his fingers around the license. "you can pick up your license back up later this week. After you see your doctor."
Lance just grumbled in response. "Do you need a taxi?" asked the cop.
"I've got a cell phone," the weatherman muttered back. The cop shrugged and walked back to his patrol car, muttering something about 'cloudy with a chance of cars'.
Lance sighed and ran his fingers through his normally-perfect hair, and resisted the urge to hit his head against the nearest wall repeatedly. "You couldn't have just let it go, could you Lance? You had to call the cop and file a report for the insurance claims, and now everyone's gonna think you're nuts."
He was a respected member of the community, after all. Sure, he still only worked at the 38th floor of the TV broadcasting service, but he got screen time every night for the weather, and all of Amity knew his name. It wouldn't be long before the cop spread the word about how polished, dignified Lance Thunder was, in fact, insane.
His hands strayed down to cover his eyes and press against his face once more. He sighed again, louder and more frustrated this time. He needed to call his boss and tell her he'd be late for work. Again.
Reluctantly, Lance dug his cell phone from his pocket and dialed before pressing it to his ear. The phone seemed to ring for a full minute, and just when Lance started to think he should call back later, his boss picked up. "Lance! You're late." She snapped in her usual tone.
He took a deep breath. "Yes, I know, I—"
"Save it," she told him. "In fact, if you're still at home, stay there. Work's closed for today."
Lance blinked, eyes wide. Finally, a stroke of luck! Maybe things were finally going HIS way for a change. Work was never closed, even in city-wide emergencies… "Alright, sure," Lance said, knowing not to look a gift horse in the mouth. "But, I do have to ask… why?"
"The offices are all messed up. The computers are on the fritz, there's paper everywhere—even the cubicles collapsed inward on themselves. It looks like a tornado hit."
Lance nodded. "Well, weirder things have happened," he murmured. And today's been plenty weird.
His boss sounded both agitated and resigned. "The staff can't even tell me what happened. One minute, everything's fine, and the next, a huge gale barrels through the floor and knocks everything over."
Well, that certainly was strange. Some of the offices at work didn't even have openable windows. Curious, Lance Thunder frowned. "So no one knows what happened?"
"Nope. Everyone has their own bogus theory. Even the smart employees are sprouting the nonsense." She laughed. "You should hear the stories they're telling. Tiffany even said she saw a red Volkswagen fly straight through the office."
Lance froze. "A… flying car?" he repeated, voice tight.
His boss didn't seem to hear the anxiety in his voice. She laughed like it was an absurd joke. "Yes, a flying car. I had to remind her she works on the 38th floor. Well, anyway, the staff's so shaken, and everything's such a mess, that we're cancelling the 10 o'clock news tonight. Enjoy your day off."
She paused, then laughed, her voice faint. "A flying car. Can you imagine?" Lance Thunder's boss laughed to herself.
Before he could say anything else, she hung up on him, leaving Lance Thunder standing, dumbfounded, in the streets of Amity Park.
.